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“What’s best for our relationship is whatever we decide,” I said. “We make our own rules. And if that means doing the long-distance thing for a while so we can prioritize our careers, then that’s what we’ll do.”

She wrapped her arms around me, and I pulled her onto my lap. We stayed there, holding each other. It felt…significant. This hug. The conversation. Knowing we were there for each other no matter what.

I smoothed my hands down her back. “In the meantime, will you stay here—with me?”

I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. Even if Logan did end up moving to LA, our schedules would still be problematic once the season started.

“This summer, yes.” I could work with that. “Because you’re right.” She pushed me down so I was sitting on the edge of the bed. “It would be more convenient.”

“Exactly.” I grinned, sliding my hands up her ribs to cup her breasts. “It would give us more time for more important things.”

“Such as…” She tilted her head, a coy fucking expression on her face.

“Come sit on my face, and I’ll show you.”

“One more set of these,” Logan said, panting as she paced slowly, hands locked behind her head. “And then we’re done.”

I braced my hands on my knees, the Hawks logo staring up at me from the floor of the gym at the Atlas Center. Sweat dripped down my forehead, and my heart might pound out of my chest. It was Logan’s day to plan the workout, and we’d been doing some strength training drills for legs and rotational core stability.

We’d been carpooling to the gym for the past few weeks. We often worked out together, and since we played the same position but had different experiences, we both benefited.

Boone had joined us, along with some of the guys from third-string defense. I was secretly pleased they didn’t seem to be faring any better than I was. We were all sweating and red-faced, but Logan was completely in her element.

I marveled at her, impressed by the workout she’d planned as well as her strength and stamina. She could easily keep up with any of us, and I was half tempted to challenge her to a race on the ice, just to see who was the fastest on skates. Because, honestly, I got the feeling she might smoke us.

I’d watched her games. She was light and agile, graceful even. And she was wicked fast. Any team would be lucky to have her, though she had yet to sign a contract with Minnesota or Anaheim. I knew it was a big decision, and we’d discussed it a number of times. I couldn’t get a sense that she was leaning either way, and I was trying to be patient in the meantime.

I’d meant what I said; I wanted her to do what was best for her. But selfishly, I hoped that would mean Anaheim. Me.

The timer beeped, signaling the end of our rest period. Logan’s expression turned to one of pure concentration. “Okay. We’ve got this. One more set.”

While Logan’s back was turned, Boone and I looked at each other and grimaced.

I was almost scared to ask, “And then what?” Because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what she had planned for us after this.

We’d already done a mix of exercises, everything from Bulgarian split squats to medicine ball rotational throws and Pallof presses. We were currently working on a circuit of weighted box jumps and lateral bounds I was convinced might actually kill me. And if that didn’t, having to watch Logan bend over repeatedly in her yoga pants would.

Fuck, she looked good.

The material clung to her ass and legs, showing what a powerhouse she was. She’d paired them with a crop top that kept riding up, hinting at her flat abs and Olympic ring tattoo. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail that bounced with movement. Her lips were a glossy pink, and I couldn’t decide what I wanted more—to kiss them or fuck them.

“You ready?” She grinned at us, almost sadistic in her intensity.

I’d been debating between two workouts for tomorrow, but after this, I was definitely leaning toward high-intensity anaerobic conditioning. As much as I despised HIIT workouts, anything was better than more of this.

“Fuck yes,” Boone said, likely trying to impress her. Or psych himself up. Maybe a little of both.

I squeezed my eyes shut briefly, taking a deep breath as I tried to mentally prepare myself. Logan was playing into my competitive side, and there was no fucking way I was going to stop now. Our third-string D-men looked as if they might pass out at any moment, but they were doing their best to hang in there too.

“Go!” Logan called, exploding into motion.

Boone and I joined in, trying to race each other to see who could compete more reps while still maintaining good form. My heart pounded in my ears, the music fading to a dull roar. I imagined myself on the ice, pushing through the pain to make it to the end of the game. And then I sank down, locking in to the repetitiveness of the movement. I forgot about everyone and everything else and moved my body, pushing to the absolute limit until Logan finally called, “Stop.”

Boone groaned. One of the other guys rushed to a trash can, emptying the contents of his stomach. I chuckled, though the sound was breathless, my body still craving oxygen. I paced, willing my heart rate to come down, my muscles to stop screaming.

“That was intense,” I said to Logan once I’d finally sort of caught my breath.

She smiled sweetly at me, her cheeks pink from exertion, sweat sliding down her chest to disappear into… She cleared her throat, and I refocused my attention on her face where a smirk was playing at her lips. I narrowed my eyes at her because she knew exactly what she was doing.